a peculiar ideal
by spiritsandstars
Summary: (Modern AU; Berlin, mid-70s) It takes more than a wall to separate a group of friends, who will keep on finding ways to see each other anyway, and it takes even less to get to know someone - or at least, try to. As Combeferre puts it, sometimes it's a mere necessity. [E/E]
1. i

i.

"Sweetheart. You don't want to look back, got it? Also, never blink during professor Heidelberg's lessons - his love for Marx is far deeper than the one for his third wife, which was a student here a couple of years ago by the way. And don't fuck up during the national anthem - you speak Russian, right? No? Oh, nevermind. Make up a couple of guttural sounds and you're all set up. What's your name again?"

The curvy girl finally stopped talking, because she had to apply her flaming lipstick once again - the reason she had been sent to the counsellor's office at least a dozen times. Curls of red hair fell on her shoulders, as she lost herself in the mirror, smiling.

"Nina." the other girl didn't even bother looking up, washing her hands with a certain precision, before getting on her knees to take off a pair of heels from her backpack.

She had bought them for her first day at the university - thank God she was there on full scholarship, because her textbooks were pretty expensive, and those shoes were worth at least a month of work at _Volkswagen_.

She called her _the ____Dorothy shoes__,_ because they took her away from the past. Of course, she would have denied ever seeing ___The Wizard of Oz._

"Amazing shoes, doll. And not a chance that's your name."

The red head was smiling brightly. "I have a thousand of fake names for every occasion, and I know when someone's lying. But guess what? You're right. You should never tell your true name to someone you barely know. You're giving away the biggest power there is. When someone knows your name, they could call you back from Hell. I am Kam, anyway."

"Nice choice for a Music student, I suppose." she chuckled, clumsily trying to fit into her new shoes.

"Oh, you're one of the clever ones. Full scholarship?"

Nina nodded, stepping on her toes for the first time. ___It hurts_, she thought. ___I guess that's the price of freedom for me._

"What's your thing? Philosophy? I could see you charming the pants off professor Strauss, or maybe... German Literature? Art?" Kam had started counting majors on her fingers.

"English and French literature. I- I'm half- French."

"You're half French and you're still stuck in this hellhole full of horny soldiers and cheap beer? When you could be in Paris? What is wrong with you, darling? Do you have a man too beautiful to lose?"

Nina put her back pack on, ignoring Kam's comments. Before sliding between the bathroom doors, she whispered quietly in her direction.

"It's not a man. It's Alexander Platz."

But Kam was not the kind of person to give up on interesting people - quite the opposite, because she actually took a great pleasure in collecting them. Running after her new acquaintance, she tucked a note into her pocket.

"You should come to an East West wedding, once. They're a proof that sometimes, the gods above take pity on us all."

* * *

The young woman had forgotten about Kam's note the minute she had started taking down notes about Virginia Woolf and running around, trying to find the French classroom. Her shoes were not comfortable in the least, but she had also managed to spark up a conversation with a boy who was in two of her courses - his name was Combeferre, and his eyes lighted up everytime someone quoted an unknown, long dead German philosopher. He was extremely polite, and offered to carry her books twice on the way to the library.

"Do you happen to know what an East West wedding is?" she asked, a little bit reluctantly.

"Oh. Mélodie strikes again." he smiled, shaking his head. "I'm actually worried. She keeps on inviting everyone to weddings that aren't even her own."

"Mélodie?" Nina's eyes narrowed. "It sounds better than Kam."

"Don't tell her that, she's all for Kam. Or Musichetta. But I don't think that German suits her and Italian's almost impossible for me to pronounce, so I'm sticking with Mélodie. Anyway. An East West wedding is a wedding on the street - usually because people have families on the other side. May I-?" he reached for the note with his long, pale fingers. "Of course it's this afternoon. She has a talent for screwing everyone's plans last minute."

"But why should I come? I mean, it's not my wedding. Or anyone I know of."

"Because she has collected you, by the looks of it. And because she can't stand to go there all by herself. I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this, but her- well, one of her many ones- boyfriend lives on the other side. And they only get to see each other this way."

"That's- that's awful. But dangerous. There are guards everywhere and besides-"

"You're here on full scholarship, paid by this wonderful government of ours." he grinned sarcastically. "I get it, you don't want to be involved. Neither did I- well, I was involved the day half of my friends were stuck on the wrong side of the road. I didn't choose it. It is a mere necessity."

Nina stopped talking for a while. She had never thought about the Wall, because no one had ever waited for her in her whole life. And she came from a house full of walls.

"I'm sorry, but I find it just silly. What's the point of whispering through cracks at strangers' weddings and risking a bullet through your chest?"

Combeferre simply shrug his shoulders. "Because someone else may do it as well. And many someone elses, put together, can tear this border down. On a more personal note, well, I miss my friends. You find that silly and unreasonable?"

"Your friends should want you safe, not with guns pointed at you." she scoffed.

"We've done worse. And people actually like to have some support from a cheering crowd. You should give it a try, Éponine."

She shivered. All she wanted was for her name to be forgotten - but then she remembered that he took some of her courses.

"Don't call me that." she mumbled. "Just go for Nina, okay? It's easier and shorter. And less personal."

"Fine with me, Nina. It's better than Mélodie's choice anyhow. I should get going, or else I'm going to be late for my Greek class." and by the look on his face, the young girl guessed he would have rather killed himself than miss it. "See you this afternoon, then."

"How do you know that?" she shouted, while he was already far ahead of her.

"Because you've got nothing to lose."

* * *

Surprisingly enough, the wedding seemed to be a social gathering of some sort. Éponine pulled her cap on her head, hoping not be recognized - because she had something to lose, and it was her scolarship, and the apartment that came with it. She spotted Kam, who had changed her pants into a soft, yellow dress - and tried to convince herself that the only reason she was there was because friends who didn't ask any personal questions were rare.

"You came! But you didn't dress up. What a shame. It's a wedding, Nina!"

"Will you calm down, Mélodie, it's not even started yet." Combeferre waved his hand at her, and pulled her next to him.

"Shut up, Socrates." an unfamiliar voice shouted from the background. "This must be Dorothy. Enchanted to meet you." A young boy with curly dark hair shook her hand. "I would give you my real name, weren't we here. Just stick with... with... Brecht. Yeah, I like it. _Mother Courage and Her Children _makes me tear up everytime."

"Dorothy-?" she had lost all hopes of understanding anything out of their conversations.

"The red shoes. Like Dorothy. From the Wizard of Oz." he laughed, his smile widening. "Honestly, you can't expect us to give out personal information like free candy. So, Dorothy- how did Kam pick you up?"

"Sharing a mirror can form long lasting friendships, darling." Kam laughed, looking at Éponine's shocked expression. "You must think we're all completely nuts. We aren't. We're just a little- _societé_, that's the French word, right Courf- I mean, Brecht? Or at least, we were. Before this stupid wall ruined our plans."

The young boy cursed in French. "Kam, be careful. Yes, _societé _is the word. Socrates here told me you're from France too, huh?"

"Only my father's half." she replied, lowering her voice. "You're French?"

"I, Mademoiselle, am from Alsace. So I've always considered myself as the perfect balance." he laughed cheerfully. "Oh, look who's there." he took advantage of the crowd to get as close as possible to a crack in the wall. "Someone left a message. I bet my French half it's from Doctor Zhivago for his Lara." he didn't even open the letter, but handed it to Kam immediately.

Éponine was mesmerized. She had ran errands for her parents that were usually more dangerous than getting letters from the other side of a wall, but the simplicity of the man's gesture appalled her.

"They're here. The three of them. Someone give me a pen." Kam replied quickly to the letter, half smiling. "And we might as well say we got a new friend. If you step a little bit to your left... " she grabbed Eponine by her waist, while the bride and the groom were exchanging vows "you can see who you're talking to."

Kam pretended to applaud, while all she was doing was waving her hand.

"I can't really see-"

"Oh, of course. It's just a little crack. But you probably can see one of them drinking, and that one is- is..." she turned her head to Combeferre, waiting for him to come up with another code name.

"Churchill?" he smiled, tapping his fingers on Kam's shoulder.

"Nice one, Socrates." she said, placing the letter in the crack once more. "We still have ten minutes, I guess."

Éponine shook her head. Coming there had been a huge mistake. Not only she was jeopardizing her freedom, she was also risking her own life for a couple of lines quickly scribbled on a piece of paper. She couldn't even see those people on the other side – she only caught a glimpse of dark hair and someone smoking a cigarette.

"God, Apollo should bless this Wall. I'd punch him in the face right now if I could. I miss punching him, you know?" Kam was reading the reply, shaking her head. "Is this woman you brought with you trustworthy? Blah, blah, blah. As if I didn't know how to choose my friends."

"He has every right to worry, let's be honest." Combeferre tried to whisper. "But she seems very nice, and I don't think she cares much. She's got plenty of problems of her own, that's quite obvious."

"Wanna say something to the guy who thinks you'll go to the Stasi and sell us all for your university fees, darling? Be as offensive as you can be." Kam got a pen for Éponine. "He hasn't even seen you. Otherwise he would probably feel like an idiot for imagining something like this."

"What should I... ?" _I have to get home before someone catches me here. Run, __É__ponine. Run for your life. _As usual, she didn't follow her own advice.

"I don't know. Your turn. But be quick."

She picked up the paper and sighed deeply, before writing a couple of lines. There she was, on her first day of class, writing messages to the other side. If only her teachers knew, she would have been expelled.

_Bonjour Monsieur,_

_I am not a spy. I just like James Joyce and Gustave Flaubert._

_P_

"You'll have to wait for tomorrow the answer – but I like it." Combeferre and his friend went through the note. As the wedding was approaching to its end, they had to slide back to their places.

"What's the P for, anyway?" Kam didn't know Éponine's real name.

"Proust." she said, without even flinching.

"One day with us and she already lies better than this morning." chuckled her new found friend. "Let's go, before... Courfeyrac!" as Kam saw her friend reach for the wall one more time, she couldn't help but whisper his real name.

"Kam, I am going to kill you. This one's for you, anyway." he handed a note to Éponine and one to the other girl. "As for me and you, my friend, all we get is a stupid joke from those idiots."

"Open it later." Combeferre placed his hand on Éponine's shoulder, protectively. "And once we are at Mélodie's place, we'll tell you our story. I understand that you're confused."

While Kam searched for her keys in the bag, Éponine finally got a hold of the yellow note from the man on the other side. She didn't even know his name, or which one he was.

_There's only one P I am interested in, and that's Patria, not you. But I like Joyce too._

_A_

**Author's note: ta-dan! Back from one of my recurring hiatuses, and starting another period E/E piece, this time set in Berlin in the mid-70's. Hope you like it – I wanted to write something Berlin-related since I went there this summer and fell in love with the city. Coming up, Combeferre's enlightening explanations.**

**xx**

**Lily**

****Kam in German is short for Kammermusik (chamber music), since Musichetta in Italian means "little melody".**


	2. ii

**Author's note: thank you for your kind reviews on the first chapter – I know it may have been a little confusing, but I'm glad you were thrilled by the story. Here are a couple of sources (I'll add new ones chapter by chapter) I have used as inspiration in case you are interested in the setting – I've learned most of the stuff I know about the Berlin Wall while I was on holiday there this summer. If you have any questions just include them in your reviews :)**

******Music:**

*Lou Reed's entire album___Berlin _

_*____Alexander Platz__, _an Italian song that describes the life and times in East Berlin of a young couple

*___Heroes, _David Bowie

******Photos:**

*****Various pictures of weddings where families were actually separated by the wall (precisely, the ones that took place around _Bernauer Strasse_)

******Literature:**

*___The Elective Affinities__, _Goethe

*Various works from Schiller and Heine - especially the night poems. The title of this story is actually one of Schiller's most known short poems, which recites: "_What thou thinkest, belongs to all/what thou feelest, is thine only."_

**Miscellanous:**

*Humboldt is East Berlin's university, located in the old city center, while Freiheit is West Berlin's university.

*Unter-den-Linden (which is German for _under the linden trees)_ is one of the main streets of Berlin, running from the Brandeburger Tor to Operaplatz, and was included in the East section of the city.

*The wall was originally built in 1961, but many sections were not complete until ten-fifteen years later. This story is set around 1973-1975, I took the liberty of imagining the Amis being separated for at least a couple of years.

* * *

ii.

"I inherited this Limoges service from my mother." said Kam proudly, pouring tea in various porcelain cups. "Besides, we are expecting two of the most poetic and ethereal people I know."

"You mean _the _most." corrected Combeferre, sipping his cup with a violet painted on it. "The little princess and John Keats."

"She stole my poet. When we first met, he wrote sonnets about my red hair. Now he spends his time walking with her and collecting flowers."

"You know how he is." Courfeyrac laughed. "The star crossed lovers, tragically separated by this wall. He's probably writing a novel about her and Marius – which reminds me, I have not introduced myself properly. My name is Courfeyrac, and only these four rooms know." he tended his hand to Éponine, who shook it, muttering a slow _Nina_.

"Like Anaïs Nin." he replied, reaching for a book on the coffee table. "A little present for being here today without too many explanations."

"Star crossed lovers my ass. I'm not here complaining everyday on how much I miss – well, because I don't." Kam's cheek reddened, without adding another word. "I'm not the love sick type."

Éponine was too busy trying to figure out what the English book Courfeyrac had handed her was about, rather than listening to Kam's awkward reaction to love when the doorbell rang. Combeferre quickly opened the door, which revealed a young woman and a boy who could have easily passed off as siblings, with their long, blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

"Sorry if we're late. Unter-den-linden is at its best just before dusk." the boy's voice was delicate, like his features.

"And we also got the chance to write a couple of letters – Marius will find his one tomorrow morning." the smile on the girl's face spoke louder than the actual content of the note she had left.

"Yeah, yeah. You could have come anyway." Kam was in the kitchen eating a chocolate bar. "We picked up someone new. Cosette, Jehan - this is Nina. Smart one. Full scolarship at Humboldt. Not everyone gets in there like me."

"Nice to meet you, Nina." the young man leaned to kiss her on the cheek, much to Éponine's surprise. "Your eyes are filled with wisdom and wonder, and that's a wonderful combination."

"Hi, I am Cosette. It's always nice to meet new friends – we really need each other." the blonde girl sat next to her, without stopping to smile. "Does she... ?" she looked at Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

"Actually, we're just here to fill her in about us. She doesn't know anything. But she still managed to get Enjolras angry without even seeing him, and that's why I like her already." Courfeyrac chuckled, pouring other tea in his cup.

"Well, Épo – I mean, Nina." Combeferre looked at her with his understanding expression. "You have every right to think that we're crazy, clueless and incredibly stupid. But I want to tell you a story, which probably will help you figure out the missing pieces of the puzzle. And before we go on, you have to swear you won't tell anybody. If you don't want to get involved, you just have to leave, but do it now."

Éponine felt the room's eyes on her, and thought about packing up her things and going for a good ten seconds. But then she remembered the reason why she had come in the first place, which was rather difficult to put into words. The first time those people had approached her, she had felt some sort of security – the one her family never gave her. And it wasn't worth giving it all up – a part of herself actually wanted to share her new found freedom with someone.

"I'm good at keeping secrets." she simply replied, nodding.

"Fair enough. No one has ever fooled Mélodie before, and I don't want to imagine what that would be like." Cosette's thought was extremely practical, and much in contrast with her looks.

"There's not much to say. We were all friends before this wall ruined our lives – and we didn't get the chance to grow up together. If there's one thing we are convinced of, though, is that we can't be the only ones. So we just find ways to live together, through letters and sometimes badly shot photos – it's all we can ask for. And maybe one day, when this mess is over, we will actually see each other again."

"How many...?" started Éponine, intrigued.

"On the other side? Well, there's Marius, Cosette's before mentioned boyfriend. And Joly, Mélodie's..." he failed to find a definition for their relationship. "Interest, one of the most lively people on Earth. And Grantaire, who is probably drinking right now and wouldn't write a word if not asked, and Enjolras – the charming young man who thinks you're going to sell us all." he laughed, finishing his friends' descriptions. "I got some pictures if you want to see them – they're terribly shot, as our little photographer" he pointed his finger towards Cosette "can tell you. Enjolras has got many talents, but he can't capture light."

Éponine went through a dozen of photos – a beautiful young man with freckles and a friendly smile, one who was always smoking his pipe or laughing, curly black hair that belonged to a boy whose best friend was the flask in the left pocket. Combeferre was right, the photographer wasn't an expert – and she was a little bit disappointed, because she wanted to see the face of the man who took an immediate dislike on her.

"I can take a picture of you if you want." proposed Cosette, taking a heavy camera from her leather purse. "And Jehan can write something about you, so we can properly introduce you." the freshness of her voice, much different from Kam's, was extremely fascinating.

"Got any questions? Why we keep on insisting to be in each other's lives when we are meant to be separated?" Courfeyrac lighted his cigarette.

"I- I just don't know why me. I'm nothing special, really. I just happened to be in that bathroom with Kam, and the moment after you're asking me to be a part of a group, and it doesn't really make sense." Éponine had learnt various lessons throughout her life, and she knew that nothing came for free.

"You're deeply unhappy, just like us. And you have something in you." Jehan stated. He had been carefully observing her for the past ten minutes.

The girl was taken aback, terrified of her past showing through her eyes. She didn't like losing control. "I don't have anything in me, I'm pretty sure of that. But anyway – I appreciate your friendship. I still don't see the reason why your friends on the other side would want to talk to me or even know I exist."

Cosette had snapped Éponine's picture while she had uttered those words. The polaroid came out quickly, and it wasn't the young girl's talent shining. Éponine's beauty always came out when no one else was noticing.

Jehan took a pen and started writing behind the photo.

_This is Nina, _

_And who the hell said she longer had it in her?_

He folded the picture carefully, with his dream like expression. "I'll place it on my way home – you want to add something yourself?"

"I actually do." Éponine ripped a page from one of her notebooks, and after introducing herself to the other side with her name and some random information about university, she scribbled something especially for Enjolras, who went by the code name of Apollo – he didn't choose it, Courfeyrac explained, watching her fill the lines with words.

"A girl writing to Enjolras. Never thought I'd live to see the day." he laughed, while everyone else started talking about the fact that chocolate was almost impossible to find, much to Kam's dismay.

After a couple of hours of talking and drinking cheap beer from the store next door, the company started to dissolve – and Jehan thought it was his responsibility to deliver Éponine's message. He couldn't hold him himself - watching sparks turn into fire was his specialty.

_See? I'm real, not the monster you want me to be. Your friends told me that you're hard to get on with, but you like Joyce, and that's enough for me. I'm taking a course on the Ulysses – and I want to get to Paris to see where it all started. Why am I telling you this? Because I find it beautiful that someone can get to know my dreams before myself._

_-P_


	3. iii

_Author's note: thank you for your lovely reviews guys, and I'm glad you find the setting of the story interesting! The next chapter will be about the other side of the Wall._

_xx_

_Lily_

* * *

"Hello, Little Red Riding Hood." said a voice behind Éponine's back, while she was enjoying the last rays of the indian summer in Berlin. "Am I interrupting something?" She turned slowly, and took off her sunglasses. Of course, it was Jehan. The only person who could ask you if he was interrupting something while you were lazily laying under the sun.

"Not at all." she moved a little bit to her left to make some space for him. "Come, sit down. I was just... relaxing, I suppose. And absorbing. I've learned more in a week here than in my entire life. And why did you call me Little Red Riding Hood?" she was starting to suspect that the whole code names business was actually an excuse to make fun of each other.

Jehan looked at her with the utmost serious expression in his pale blue eyes and murmured.

"Because you look like someone who has been into the woods for most of her life."

"I'm not asking what that means. What brings you here?" Naturally, she knew exactly what Jehan meant – he was different from everybody else, because he saw through everyone's scars and unlocked secrets with a simple glance. And he was brave enough to not let them out in the open, but cherish them and turning them into something beautiful – his art. It was probably the reason why he was the best messenger out of all of them. Walls came down when he was around.

"I have something special for you." he handed Éponine various notes and a photo. "Everyone's happy to meet you, Little Red." he smiled whole heartedly. "I am smiling for them as well; I can imagine it is difficult for you to picture them as people, and not as photos – even though Cosette keeps on saying just how terrible of a photographer Enjolras is."

Cosette was right: Enjolras's picture were always blurry, and the contrast between light and shadows was evident. But Éponine bit her lip and sighed, because she knew the reason why Enjolras was always the one behind the camera, and not Marius. _It's curious how he cares from afar, _she thought. _I wonder if they notice._

She went through the notes – how funny it was, for a girl who had never had many friends, to find herself surrounded with people she wasn't even supposed to meet, or know about. Jehan let her read on her own, until he couldn't resist and patted her on the shoulder with urgency.

"I- I also have an-another letter, you-you know." He was honestly disappointed that Éponine hadn't furiously gone through the letters, looking for only one of them, and then proceeded to ask him about it.

"Well, what about that other letter?" she was still trying to decypher Joly's handwriting.

"It's from – it's from Enjolras." his lips broke into a large smile, and he whispered those words with extreme care.

"So what? You forgot to give it to me?" Éponine genuinely didn't understand her friend's enthusiasm. It was a just letter from someone who would have never seen her in person, probably, and it was just a distraction. Not to mention the fact that she had mixed feelings towards his messages.

"We – we have a rule for personal correspondence. If it's for you, you should be the one to pick it up. We shouldn't be more intrusive than we already are." He never cared about that rule – as if Cosette didn't show him Marius's letters anyway.

"Well, I understand. But you've got it all wrong. It's not _personal correspondence. _How could it be? I don't even know how this man looks like, and he clearly dislikes me, and we have never seen each other, how on Earth, I ask you, could that be _personal correspondence?"_

He shook his head, annoyed. _Didn't she understand that it was the ultimate love trial to fall in love with someone you have seen or heard his voice? How could she fail to realize that only true love could blossom under such unfortunate circumstances?_ Yes, those were Jehan's thoughts, who tended to mix his world with fantasies that made it bearable – and no one could blame him for that.

"Well, it seems much like a fairy tale to me." he replied, handing her the letter. He hadn't read it – but would have been extremely happy to find an appropriate reply together with Éponine, just like he did with Cosette.

"You're right. He could be the Wicked Witch of the West Section." Éponine burst into laughter, opening the letter.

_Of course you're real – actually, I'm relieved you're not one of my friends' pranks, it wouldn't be the first time. Anyway, I can sympathize with your fascination for Paris – I've been there a few times, and it is the most pleasant place. I'm taking English Literature classes too here at Freiheit, even if I'm a Political Sciences student._

_PS. Our good friend Socrates tells me your voice sounds like cigarettes and dust, is that possible? Just for the record._

_PPS. If your name is Nina, why do you sign yourself with a P? And what you don't have in you?_

_- A_

Jehan had watched Éponine's eyes the whole time – but the only trace of sentiment found within her was a subtle irritation, nothing more.

"Jehan, why – actually, how can someone be so annoying, even by letter? What kind of a person is this Enjolras, by the way?" she gave him the note and shook her head. "I don't know, it's – I mean, he could be more friendly. And why does he care about my voice?"

"You shouldn't be so harsh in your judgement. Enjolras can be irritating, boring and hard to sort out, but – well, no one believes the way he does. He's the Byronic hero you read about in books, hopelessly in love with a lost cause. And he's charming as well."

"Charming? Well, I've never seen him, but I wouldn't say he's charming. He looks – he seems – oh, forget it. Correspondence over, he didn't send any real questions." she frowned and took a cigarette from her left pocket. She couldn't admit that yes, he was charming, because the words he wrote her clearly stuck inside her head.

"What?" Jehan raised his eyebrow. "Correspondence clearly not over, Little Red. He sent you three questions and besides, I'm sure he just wants to picture you in his head. There's nothing bad about that."

"Excuse you, but everyone of us is risking something whenever we go near that Wall, it might as well be for someone we care about. I would – I could get caught when I'm leaving a note for him, and I would lose my scolarship for someone I don't like _in the least?"_

"I don't believe he dislikes you – actually, he's been rather kind to you. Most of time he just sends us reminders about what we should do."

"How can you stand someone like him? He's clearly arrogant and full of himself and look, he's been to Paris!" she angrily picked up the lighter. _Stop letting some stranger's words into your thoughts, 'Ponine._

"You are reading what you want into his letter. I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude – it's just that he's very apathic to what most people consider important. He's got his own set of values and morals, and doesn't listen to anyone else. But trust me when I say he is a good friend – he always helps us out, in the end. Even Marius and Cosette, and you know how dangerous that is, due to the high frequency of their letters."

"Do you have a picture of him? I'd like to see his stupid face." Éponine was good at laughing things off – she knew the tricks to hide, even in conversations.

"I – I think so. I probably have one with me, I was working on a sketch earlier..." Jehan started looking in his school bag, finding a stash of pictures and giving Éponine the one she was interested in. "That's Enjolras. You can see why we call him Apollo." he laughed quietly.

"Well, I'm glad I know he's a jerk. Because – because I bet he can fool any girl he wants with his looks." She had to admit he was beautiful, almost too beautiful. She never liked perfection in people – to be flawed was essential for her, especially in men. Mainly because she had read too many Hemingway novels.

"He's beautiful, but his beauty is simple – unquestionable, I'd say. But that's the least interesting thing about him." he shook his head. "You should have the chance to meet him in person. I'd like to see the collision."

"I couldn't hold myself, trust me. I would probably punch him in the face within the first five minutes. But – doesn't he have a girlfriend or something? A loved one? I mean, he's – he's the typical stereotype of Prince Charming. Blonde and everything. The whole package."

Éponine didn't want to say out loud, but she was silently comparing him to herself. She wasn't beautiful – no one had ever told her that, anyway. She managed to make you believe she was funny, a little bit sarcastic and knew how to use make up, but she wasn't beautiful. She didn't have Cosette's blue eyes, or Musichetta's round hips. She was just herself – and she felt trapped most of the time.

Jehan looked at her. "Are you kidding me? Enjolras doesn't even know what he feels most of the time, being focused enough for loving and caring about someone – it's out of the table. Unless he meets a lost cause who happens to be a person."

"And he has a God complex too." she scoffed. "He just can't help but getting worse."

"Well, Little Red -" Jehan got up all of a sudden, kissing her left hand. "I would love to stay and hear you call Enjolras names, but I have to go, for the moment. You can keep the picture – and remember, the best place for letters is Bernauer Strasse. I'll see you tonight."

"Wait, Jehan! How am I even supposed to –" she cursed in his direction, but he didn't turn back, crossing the park. He understood that Enjolras had asked her some private questions without even realizing it, and knew that Éponine was the only one who could answer them.

"Fine." she muttered, under her breath. "This is the last thing I'm sending to that bourgeois two a penny thing."

_Lucky you, I'm French but I've never been to Paris because unlike you, I don't have the money_

_It's great that you're probably richer than I will ever be_

_I think you are by far the most arrogant person I have ever_

_Who do you think you are anyway_

The final version of the note was a little less aggressive, but Éponine managed to express her uneasiness through her words anyway.

_I'll go to Paris as soon as I can. And 1. How can I know how my voice sounds? It's just a voice. There's nothing special about it. 2. Jehan's a poet and poets write clever things we aren't supposed to understand, but I can assure you I have absolutely nothing peculiar about me save for the scolarship. 3. I can't tell you my name, of course. But it's French and the second letter is a P. Best regards,_

_- P_

She left the note around three in the afternoon – and was rather surprised to find a reply when she was heading to Kam's house for dinner. Didn't he have anything better to do? And as usual, he managed to grasp all her scars with his pen.

_You really don't believe it you're impressive, do you?_

_- A_


	4. iv

_This chapter is set on the other side of the Wall – I plan on switching from one point of view to the other from now on. Hope you enjoy :)_

_xx _

_Lily_

"Are you still editing your paper?" a puzzled Marius glanced over Enjolras's notebook, with a horrified expression on his face. "I wish I hadn't turned mine in so early. God knows what I have written."

"Like that one time you turned in your letter to dear Cosette?" Grantaire burst into a loud laughter, followed by a reproachful look from Joly.

"Very, very funny." Marius blushed deeply, remembering his professor's exact words, _I am afraid my name is not Cosette, and that my eyes aren't the color of the sky._

"At least you don't have to worry about memorizing two hundred and six bones by Monday, Pontmercy." Joly's eyes were fixed on his textbook, and moved only to flip the pages. "And, from now on, I will be much more careful whenever I take my bike. Look at these fractures!"

"Would you like some coffee?" Enjolras, as usual, spit out his sarcastic comments. "I heard the café down the street is very nice. Why don't you all go there and talk about dear Cosette and bones and whatever you want and come back when you're actually interested in working?"

"Ah, ignore him." Grantaire rolled his eyes. "He's been like this all week. I suspect it has something to do with the brunette Courfeyrac won't shut up about."

"I have not been like this all week, and it has nothing to do with that - that girl Courfeyrac won't shut up about. She's just a pretty girl, and, in case you haven't noticed, is separated from me by a border. She leads her life, I lead mine. Why should I let that bother me? And besides – I have never seen her once. Maybe she's not even pretty."

Three identical smiles formed on the three friends' faces.

"Is someone here hiding something?" Joly inquired, trying not to chuckle.

"Jehan told me she's wonderful! He likes her very much. Courfeyrac told me she can sneak booze into almost everything. And Cosette finds her fascinating." Marius's smile was one of genuine happiness.

"And I know that they've been corresponding." Grantaire took out a pile of letters from his green vest, and threw them on the table, nodding.

"Grantaire, where did you even get those? They're private and... " Enjolras couldn't help blushing, frantically reaching for the letters – but not before Joly could get hold of one and read it.

"You seriously expected me not to find them, if you hid them _behind _the liquor cabinet? Joly, don't waste your time. There's not much but the fact that he doesn't even know what a girl is, and she is way too patient."

"Well, I expected you not to read them!" Enjolras took the letter from Joly's hands and gathered the other ones scattered around. "It's nothing, okay? She's just – she's nothing. A nothing that hates me anyway. And none of your business to start with."

"Wait. You think that she hates you? Sure. A girl that doesn't even know you, but for some odd reason wants to risk her life to get you her message? Right. She must hate you very much." Joly shook his head, closing his book.

"I maybe was a little bit too harsh with her. Maybe." Enjolras tried to sink into his paper, picking up the pen again.

"_Maybe_? Maybe comparing her to some Stasi spy of some sort wasn't a really good idea, I hope you realize that."

"Are you on her side, Grantaire? You don't even know her!" It was too late. Once that his three friends had found out about his letters, there was no way he could have finished his paper on time.

"I'm not on her side, Enjolras. I'm just saying, she has a couple of good reasons not to fall at your feet."

"Do you want me to ask Cosette if she likes you?"

"Do you want me to ask Kam if she has a boyfriend?"

"The three of you are impossible!" shouted Enjolras in frustration, louder than he intended to. "No, I don't want you to ask your girlfriends anything, I don't want you to meddle with my personal life, and I don't want you to think for one second that I forgot what we've been working on for almost one year of our lives. And I don't want you to think that I would throw it all away just because there's a girl on the other side of the Wall. The world is full of girls, and she's just one of them."

"We just wanted to help you. That's all." Marius waved his hand, to make Enjolras lower is voice.

"You don't want to help me. If you would have wanted that, you would have written that girl a clear letter saying that we weren't interested in contacting her. But no! You all had to jump aboard. What's one more person involved, right? What's the worth of someone's life who shouldn't have never met any of us?"

"Enjolras, please, don't make a scene about it."

"I am not making a scene, Joly. We should have forgotten about her in the first place. Because we all know how this is going to end, and what's going to happen to her? Don't tell me someone won't find out. Then, what's it gonna be? Prison, perhaps. We aren't even sure we'll come alive out of this and now we have responsibilities to a total stranger."

"Oh, I'm sure Kam hasn't babbled about that -"

"You may not care, Grantaire, but I do. You all want me to write letters to a girl who's going to die just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time? You want me to be friends with her and expect me to leave her behind at the first occasion? How could I even remotely think about that possibility?"

"As a future doctor, Enjolras... You can't save everybody. You just can't. And we simply wanted to tease you a little bit about you talking to a girl, not talk about serious matters."

"Well, she's a serious matter to me. And sometimes, behind all her witty replies and the way she mocks me, she understands some things better than all of you put together." Enjolras had collected his supplies and was now about to storm out of the library, walking quickly towards the exit, mentally cursing his three friends.

"She really is something, if she gets to his head when nothing else does." whispered Joly, looking through his bones chart for the tenth time.

* * *

That same night, Enjolras got up from his bed to find a decent reply to Éponine's last message – he was following Jehan's writing advice, because he always said he wrote better during the night time. His conversation with his friends was still fresh in his mind, and finding the words was extremely difficult.

He sat on the couch, with the paper on his lap, sucking the end of his pen – a habit he had picked up since middle school, while he was lost in his thoughts.

"God, I thought you were asleep." Grantaire's voice came from the kitchen – he usually finished his Art projects with bottles of wine the night before.

"I was. But I remembered I had to - "

"Save your breath. I'm drawing right now, and I am not very interested in your lame excuses. You were writing to that little girl of yours, no shame about that."

"For the last time... "

"Enjolras, I am your best friend, probably too drunk right now and running out of ideas. I told you, I have no time for your excuses."

"You should have just started earlier."

"Thanks, Cricket, I'll keep that in mind. When you find me a good clock that tells the time for art, I'll start working on time."

"As if that's not a pathetic excuse as well."

"Can you admit you need help or do I have to listen to you whine all night?"

"I don't need help, Grantaire. I wasn't even talking to you. I was just thinking out loud."

"Of course. Why don't you tell her she understands better than your idiotic friends? I'm sure she would like to hear it."

"I'm sure it's none of your business, as I said this afternoon."

"What are you even afraid of? That, Heaven forbid, someone likes you for something that's not related to your knowledge of political theories? Or that you may actually like someone who is made out of flesh and bones?"

"Since you seem to know her so well, why don't you write her a letter?" Enjolras walked into the kitchen, sitting next to his friend.

"Maybe I did." Grantaire raised his eyes from his sketchbook, grinning. "Maybe I told her that you're not the jerk you seem to be, and that you've been losing sleep over her replies, and that you are afraid Courfeyrac gets her first."

"You didn't." Enjolras's cheeks turned purple. "You wouldn't dare. You wouldn't."

"You're right, I didn't, but your reaction speaks more than words." he laughed, finishing his bottle. "Just – just tell her to talk to Kam as soon as she can, and add something nice. Something she may like. Last time I met her, she used to - " he stopped.

"What do you mean, last time you met her? You have met her?"

"No, of course not. I have never seen her in my whole life and -"

"And I guess you took a liking on her for what, exactly? Even before, when we were at the library... You seemed _protective, _and we both know that's not the first adjective that comes to mind when one thinks of you."

"Enjolras, you're freaking out about something of no importance."

"And you, Grantaire, are lying. How could you even... ? She's from the other side, you and I have known each other since high school and... " He felt his smile freezing on his face.

"You moved here." Enjolras didn't blink for a good thirty seconds. "How could you not tell me that you knew her?"

"In my defense, it's hard to recognize a childhood friend when she's grown up and hot. But then we exchanged a couple of letters, and – yes, I know her. What's the big deal?" Grantaire shrug his shoulders, tracing lines on the paper.

"That you know her and probably her family as well, since you were children together? I don't know, maybe I wouldn't have implied she was a spy and made a complete fool out of myself!"

"You would have done it anyway, and, as I told you, I found out three or four days ago, I wasn't sure at first. Her true name is Éponine, by the way. She got mad when you told her girls couldn't fight like boys. Also, her favorite movie was the Wizard of Oz and her favorite book... Wuthering Heights, if I remember correctly."

"I can't believe you would keep something like that away from me!"

"Oh, I have some good reasons, let me tell you that. You would have started asking questions about her, questions that, frankly, shouldn't be answered, and you would gotten even crazier than the usual."

"You - you were close with this girl?"

"Can we please not discuss it? And no, I didn't love her, because that's what you're asking, but... I guess I cared about her when no one else did. But we were just kids. Now write your reply, make an ass out of yourself as usual, and tell her to ask Kam the reason why we all keep in touch. And if she's the same old Éponine I know, she probably has figured something out already."

"I suppose I understand why you were so eager to let her into our group of friends, but... I'm your best friend, Grantaire. You should have told me. What exactly do you know?"

"Why do you even care? I knew her when she was just a girl from my neighborhood and I'm pretty sure things have changed, because she's on a full scolarship at the university and those are hard to get. That's it, nothing more. And I shouldn't have told you, and you know why? Because what I know has _nothing _to do with you, Enjolras. If she wants you to know, she will tell you herself. Now, can I finish my work? It's nearly three. And I have to be in the professor's office by eight tomorrow."

Before leaving the room, perfectly knowing Grantaire had no intention to add another word on that matter, he managed to ask one last question.

"Do... do you think she would like it if I called her Catherine?"


End file.
